


I Melt With You

by orphan_account



Series: Totally '80s [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wallpaper which desperately wished it could be half as cool as the kind decorating the walls of 221B Baker Street stared at Arthur from every direction, peeling in some areas and darkened with water in others, and he decided that he could definitely understand the urge to take firearm and aerosol paint to 1970s designs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Melt With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jelazakazone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelazakazone/gifts).



> This was written for jelazakazone, who requested that I put Eurythmic's _Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)_ in a fic for this series, the lyrics of which are included, though they might seem a bit... different.

Wallpaper which desperately wished it could be half as cool as the kind decorating the walls of 221B Baker Street stared at Arthur from every direction, peeling in some areas and darkened with water in others, and he decided that he could definitely understand the urge to take firearm and aerosol paint to 1970s designs. Feeling guilty for his abysmal attention span, his eyes returned reluctantly to the diminutive woman speaking to his partner in a manner which he supposed was meant to be reassuring, “… and the recovery will only be harder when you are older, Mr. Emrys. Honestly, I find it surprising that this is the first time anyone has suggested this procedure to you.”

“I suppose I just don’t understand the need to remove them if they haven’t caused me any problems yet. Besides, it’s not like I don’t have the room for them,” Merlin reasoned, offering Dr. Delacroix the self-deprecating grin he often relied on to avoid giving offence.

“These days we prefer to think more in terms of preventive care,” the oral surgeon explained patiently. She truly was a lovely person, so far as Arthur could tell. She hadn’t batted an eyelash when the two of them walked in earlier, Merlin clinging to their dentist’s referral with one hand and Arthur with the other, though judging by the shock of grey in her curly black hair and the fine lines around her gently smiling mouth and kind brown eyes, she was from an entirely different generation.

Whether in response to Dr. Delacroix’s overall geniality or simply because he was still rather bored, Arthur chose to help the consultation along. “Why not just get it over with, Merlin? The insurance says they’ll cover most of the cost-“

“Because the fact that the insurance will pay for it means it must be done, certainly,” Merlin muttered mulishly.

Alright, so Merlin wasn’t exactly Arthur’s biggest fan right now, continued hand-holding notwithstanding. Message sent and received. He still could and would be understanding about Merlin’s discomfort regarding anything resembling a medical procedure. “Do you trust me?” At Merlin’s terse yet sincere nod, Arthur soothed, “Then trust me on this: you’ll be fine. I had my wisdom teeth removed when I was sixteen, and it wasn’t bad at all. Come on, you might even enjoy staying at home a few days – when’s the last time you took some time off? ” It had been a while since either of them had taken a break, actually. While it was understandable, given the fact that Arthur had become an attorney at his father’s firm only a year ago, and they were both doing their level best to prove that he deserved to be there – not because he was the Pendragon scion, but because he was the best.

His partner considered Arthur carefully for an indeterminate amount of time and then sighed heavily, turning back to the oral surgeon. “Alright. What do we need to do?”

The two weeks leading up to Merlin’s surgery were almost normal – there was only a vague hint of anxiety tainting the air around their flat, not oppressive, but also not easily ignored. Then the morning of the procedure dawned, and when he turned over to wake his partner, Arthur discovered that Merlin was already among the living, staring up at their bedroom ceiling with a disquieted look on his face.

“Did you not sleep?” Arthur queried, turning over and supporting himself so that he could look down at his partner. He took in the grey-purple bags lining cerulean and felt his own brow creasing in concern.

“I did, actually. I only woke up about an hour ago,” Merlin replied implacably.

Shaking his head, Arthur demanded lowly, “What are you not telling me?”

For some reason, Merlin’s eyebrows rose and a glint, which might have been playful with slightly more energy and excitement, entered his eyes. “Oh, this and that.” At Arthur’s distinctly unimpressed demeanor, he relented, “It took me a while to go to sleep, but it’s fine. It’s not like I need to be awake for this thing. In fact, I believe Dr. Delacroix said something about sedation at one point.”

“You seem more sanguine about things,” Arthur observed, wondering what he might have missed.

“Some time in the wee hours of the morning, it occurred to me that I have nothing to be worried about.”

That was definitely not what Arthur had been expecting. “Oh?”

Merlin explained plainly, “You would tear the world apart with your bare hands before you let anything happen to me.”

Yes, he supposed he would.

Taking Arthur’s flummoxed expression as a sign of a point well made, Merlin began humming Modern English’s [_I Melt With You_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XG-3XqcXbbE), and dragged his partner out of bed, ready to face the day.

...

“And don’t wait too long to try chewing again, otherwise it’ll take longer for you to be able to open your mouth properly, and wouldn’t _that_ be a shame?” Arthur blinked dumbly at the young hygienist who was explaining all of the things Merlin would need to remember during his recovery. Had she really just _winked_ at them? Well, not at him, he knew, but certainly at Merlin, who looked every bit as flustered as Arthur. Was she allowed to say things like that to patients?

“Right. I’ll… keep that in mind,” Merlin promised, sounding rather bemused.

“Oh, Angie dear, do try not to mortify my patient. Mr. Emrys is nervous enough as it is.” The sight of the tiny oral surgeon might be the most beautiful one in the entire world at that moment. Certainly it seemed that way with both young men gazing at her with at once adoring and relieved expressions. She clapped her thin, slightly wrinkled hands together. “Now, if you would be so kind as to wait here, Mr. Pendragon, I’ll have Angie come and find you when Merlin is ready to go home.”

In spite of his earlier calm, Merlin glanced at Arthur hesitantly, and so Arthur stood from his chair, taking Merlin’s hands and pulling him gently to his feet. Still cradling his partner’s hands between them, he leaned forward and placed his lips against Merlin’s, noting in the back of his mind that he had remembered to use balm this morning, in preparation for the unusual amount of time his mouth would be open during the surgery. He pulled back whispered, “With my bare hands, remember?” ignoring the smirk on ‘Angie’s’ face, and the indulgent smile on Dr. Delacroix’s.

“Right,” Merlin confirmed, swallowing and drawing away. “I’d do the same for you.”

“I know.”

…

Arthur took one look at his loopy partner after the dental hygienist led him into the room where Merlin lay recovering from the procedure, and fought down the dire need to laugh. The next week was either going to be incredibly frustrating or extremely entertaining. Why think small, though? It would probably be both.

The next twelve hours proved his theory quite handily – Merlin was hilarious on codeine and acetaminophen, but getting up in the middle of the night to make sure his partner did not miss his next dose was not on Arthur’s list of the top ten activities he loved to do in their flat, nor did he relish the idea of helping him to clean the surgical sites later on. Nevertheless, he did his husbandly duties without complaint, their conversations from earlier in the day constantly at the back of his mind.

Morning came far too soon, and Arthur pried himself from under the covers to go put together a tray for Merlin, who remained dead to the world, in order to give him his next round of medication.

Hours later, Arthur was busy pouring over the details of a client’s case, taking a sip of his coffee, which Merlin had thoughtfully remembered to purchase three days previous when he realized how insufficient their remaining supply would be when compared to the week they – or really, Arthur – would have. At the sound of someone’s fist rapping on the door, he glanced up sharply and then had to roll his neck in penance for holding it in such an odd position for so long. He didn’t think there were any parcels coming today…

Rising, he straightened his clothes and went to check through the peephole, wondering all the while if Merlin was still taking that nap he’d wanted after lunch.

Grinning, he hastened to open the door when he recognized the two figures standing together. “Lancelot, Guinevere, what are you doing here?”

His oldest friend held up a container of something that smelled heavenly in lieu of a response, while Guinevere said, “We came by to see how Merlin was doing and to bring you some stew. From what I remember of when Elyan had his wisdom teeth out, he might be able to chew a bit of it today, and the broth is pretty good, too.”

“She’s being modest,” Lancelot assured him, gazing adoringly at his wife, “the stew is amazing, broth and all.”

“I’m sure it is – but come on in, what am I doing leaving the two of you out there?” Arthur beckoned the young couple to follow him inside. “Sorry about the flat – bit of a mess at the moment.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. We understand,” Guinevere assured him sweetly while Lancelot went to place the pot of stew in the fridge for later, comfortable enough in Arthur and Merlin’s flat to take liberties he would not dare take anywhere else.

As Lancelot emerged from the kitchen, they all turned to face the bedroom, hearing at once the throbbing base and the synthesizers which emanated from the room where Merlin was meant to be sleeping. Within seconds, it was painfully obvious that while he wasn’t sleeping, he truly needed to be, instead of sliding along the wooden floors in his socks and boxer-briefs, Arthur’s white button down shirt completely open and hanging off his lanky frame, and sunglasses perched rather ridiculously on a nose surrounded by slightly the slightly swollen flesh of his normally sculpted cheeks. To top it off, Merlin was slurring right along to the music, “[Schweet dreamz](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJE_Sc1Wags) are meeehhhd of thes, who’m ah to dishagree…”

While Lancelot clapped a hand over his wife’s eyes, Arthur started to consider which kinds of flowers to have sent to Guinevere’s desk on Monday – purple and yellow, since Lancelot said they were her favorite colors, and then also some daisies, as a sign of friendship – because she deserved them for handling traumatic experiences like a champ, and because there was no chance it would be misconstrued as sexual harassment, since she could not possibly believe he was anything other than utterly devoted to his partner after witnessing the kind of insanity he voluntarily endured in his home.

“Merlin, what are you – put some clothes on, you idiot! We have _guests_!” Arthur strove to be heard over the excessive volume of the music, already anticipating having to hear their neighbors gripe at him later.

“Arfur!” Merlin exclaimed, delighted by his mere presence. “Come dansh wif me, caush we dinnit dansh biffore, an ah alwaysh wanneda dansh wif you!”

“What on earth are you talking about? We used to dance all the time! Wait – never mind that, you’re supposed to be making yourself decent!” Arthur strode forward and took Merlin by the shoulders, leading him back into their room. After shutting off the decrepit old CD player he had owned since his days of living with Uther, he retrieved the sweatpants Merlin had been wearing earlier and determinedly guided his partner into them, and then he buttoned up several of the buttons on his now hopelessly wrinkled shirt and led him back out into the hall.

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I would deeply appreciate it if you could behave like a civilized individual for a little while. After that, you can be as much of a rebel as you want, with or without cause. Do you think you can do that for me?”

“Coursh ah can. Ah‘d schtop th world an melt f’you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know about everyone else, but I've always had some pretty odd reactions to various medications. When I had my wisdom teeth out, the hydrocodone didn't make me funny, it actually made me cry a lot, and I wound up writing a love letter to this guy I was best friends with before I started being home-schooled... but _anyway_ , I'm assuming that everyone reacts to pain meds a bit differently, which is one of the reasons Merlin is always so wary of modern medicine practices in the first place.


End file.
